


We'll make it another night

by Swarms_of_crabs



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Michael Shelley, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Meetings, Leitner Books (The Magnus Archives), M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strangers to Lovers, The Desolation Fear Entity (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swarms_of_crabs/pseuds/Swarms_of_crabs
Summary: Gerard Keay hadn't meant to fall in love.He really hadn't. In fact, he actively avoided it.So far as he was concerned, it was an unnecessary luxury that he didn't have time for and that, frankly, he didn't need. Nice, sure, but something to be enjoyed by normal people with normal lives, unburdened by existential horrors and deadly books. Plus, it only seemed to get in the way.But then he met Michael.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Devill town is colder in the summertime._
> 
> _I'll lose my mind at least another thousand times,_
> 
> _hold my hand tight, we'll make it another night._
> 
> _I still get a little scared of something new,_
> 
> _but I feel a little safer when I'm with you._
> 
> _Falling doesn't feel so bad when I know you're falling this way too. ___
> 
> __~Devil Town, Cavetown_ _
> 
> __This fic has not been beta read, and was written mostly by an insomniac in the late hours of the night, so please forgive my mistakes. Feel free to point out any that you notice in the comment section, and I will go through and fix them as I notice them._ _

Gerry hadn't meant to fall in love.

He really hadn't. In fact, he actively avoided it. 

So far as he was concerned, it was an unnecessary luxury that he didn't have time for and that, frankly, he didn't need. Nice, sure, but something to be enjoyed by normal people with normal lives, unburdened by existential horrors and deadly books. Plus, it only seemed to get in the way. He'd read enough statements where someone's love gotten their partner killed, or worse, tainted by The Corruption, with its sickly sweet affection and putrid approximation of tenderness.

And... Well, it wasn't like love had gotten his father very far.

It wasn't as if he didn't notice it, of course. Sometimes on one of his odd errands, after his mother's death but before he'd properly started working with Gertrude, someone would catch his eye. A pretty girl would smile at him when he asked for help at the library, or a young man would hug him in relief after Gerry destroyed whatever Leitner the poor soul had stumbled on. He'd feel that pleasant warmth tingling in his chest, the intrinsic desire for closeness with another human. But he would ignore it, would press it back down, because he knew it would bring nothing good could ever come of it.

And it worked, for awhile. 

But then he met Michael.

***

He'd been looking into a Leitner he'd recently gotten his hands on. It was Desolation affiliated, he was certain, and he needed Gertrude's help with it. 

The book was a thin manuscript, bound in stiff, cracked leather, and with pages stained a mottled sooty grey. The gold embossed title was the only part that wasn't covered in fine ash, but both the gleaming lettering as well as the text itself was in ancient Hebrew, and Gerry frankly didn't care enough to have it translated. 

All he needed to know was that a young man had taken it out from his school library and that he'd given Gerry the book with shaking hands a month later. He'd been standing outside the charred remains of his parents' house, shortly before being arrested for serial arson and first degree murder. The book felt alive, and pulsed slightly in his hands with a dry warmth. It was unnervingly comforting, and Gerry was glad that he normally wore gloves while working with Leitners.

It was no surprise really, nothing new. Gerry wasn't especially concerned, he just knew that burning was certainly not an effective way to dispose of this type of book. He didn't know what might happen if he tried, and wasn't exactly itching to find out. With cases like these, he'd generally ask Gertrude for help, and she'd always oblige, albeit a bit reluctantly.

He knew Gertrude didn't like him much, but there were few people she did. He also knew that she had some kind of deal, probably with Gerry's father, to keep an eye on him. She'd usually help when he asked, and whenever he got in trouble with the law, the officer in charge would often recieve a rather large donation courtesy of the Magnus Institute, and suddenly decide to let him go. On special occasions, they'd even be dismissed from the force entirely, after a particularly nasty secret was exposed to the public, always via an anonymous source. 

Gerry never asked it it was her, and she never volunteered the information, but it didn't matter. The old bag knew a lot about the dark forces and even more about fighting them, and her Archivist powers did occasionally come in handy. Plus, he couldn't deny that she made a wicked cup of tea.

So he felt confident enough as he walked in through the doors of the Magnus Institute, heading for the front desk. He checked his hair in a window as he crossed the large entrance, adjusting it slightly so that it covered one eye, the way he liked. He was well aware that the receptionist Chloe fancied him, and who was he to mention anything if it meant she'd let him skip all the queues?

Chloe wasn't there though. Instead, sat behind the reception desk was a young man Gerry didn't recognize. Somewhere around Gerry's age, maybe a bit older, but he couldn't be sure. Fine straw blond hair curled down to his shoulders, framing a pointed face and brilliant blue eyes. Pulling his hair back from his face were two barrettes, one pastel blue and one pink, the kind Gerry normally associated with eight year old girls. Despite this, he couldn't help notice the way his eyes lingered on the stranger, filling his chest with something fuzzy. The book in his hand felt hotter all of a sudden, and Gerry wasn't sure if it was the book itself, or just the sudden warmth suffusing his limbs. 

_Nope. Not now, not ever. _He told himself, forcing himself to replace the feeling with a familiar bored irritation.__

__The man looked up from his paperwork, and blinked twice. He looked a bit intimidated. Good._ _

__"Uh- hello, welcome to the Magnus Institute. If you'd like to access our library, just show me your student ID or qualifications and I'll be with you soon." He rattled off from a clearly memorized script. "If you'd like to make a statement, just wait over by the blue sign for a moment and I'll get the paperwo-"_ _

__"I'm not here to make a bloody statement." Interrupted Gerry. "Where's Chloe."_ _

__The young man was momentarily startled, and took a minute to reply. "Oh she uh- she's off sick. I'm covering for her, just for the um- just for the week." He stammered._ _

__"And who are you supposed to be?" He did his best "I'm unimpressed, and also much cooler than you" voice._ _

__"Michael."_ _

__"I know at least three Michaels in this building alone. You're gonna have to be more specific."_ _

__The young man, who's name was apparently Michael, flushed a bit. "Michael Shelly. I work down in the archives."_ _

__Gerry's eyes narrowed. "You new here, Michael Shelly from down in the archives?"_ _

__Michael Shelly, from down in the archives, seemed startled again. "Uh- no. I've been here for almost three years. Um... Why do you ask?"_ _

__"I've spent a lot of time down there, never seen you."_ _

__"I uh... Normally don't spend my time down there. I do statement follow ups mostly, and if I have to, I prefer to read the statements up here. I uh... I don't like reading them down there. Makes me feel like I'm being watched." He then clamped his mouth shut, as though realising he'd overshared._ _

__Gerry just snorted at the irony. "Don't worry mate, I get it." He paused. "I need to see Gertrude."_ _

__"Oh- she's uh- she's not seeing any public today. Sorry."_ _

__"Yeah well, I'm not the public. You're one of her assistants, right?" He glared at Michael, who nodded. "Just tell her that I need help with a book. I'm here all the time."_ _

__"Sorry, I really shouldn't. She was uh- pretty clear on it." He raised both his hands, as if to say "sorry, it's out of my control". Gerry noticed that his nails were painted the same pastel blue as his barrette, and for some reason this made his heart flutter._ _

__There was a lull as Gerry fumbled for a reply, trying not to notice how the book in his hand was definitely warmer than it had been when he'd entered._ _

__"You're not following dress code." He finally stated bluntly, gesturing at Michael's puffy jacket and scarf._ _

__"Well uh- neither are you."_ _

__Gerry looked down at his own attire. His attire looked like something off a death metal album cover, and the eye tattoos on his neck and peeking through his ripped jeans added to the effect. He was aware he wasn't exactly easy to ignore._ _

__"Yeah, well I don't work here, do I?"_ _

__Michael smiled, wide and cheery. It completely transformed his face, making him look elated and wild and just a tiny bit unhinged. "Well then, if you don't work here, you're a member of the public. Which means you can't see Gertrude. Please wait by the blue sign."_ _

__Gerry wanted to be annoyed. He really did. And he should have, this weird man was wasting his time on purpose, and there were few things that Gerry hated more than people who refused to get to the point. He really wanted to tell the kid to fuck off, and push past him to the Archives, authorized or not._ _

__He really tried, too. He looked at Michael and said, "Go fuck yourself." In his best apathetic monotone. The effect was somewhat ruined though by the involuntary smile twisting at the corners of his lips._ _

__Then Michael giggled, _actually giggled _, a breathy but melodic sound that trailed off into a happy sigh after a few seconds. Blood rushed to Gerry's face, and for a few moments he could do nothing but stare at the man sitting behind the reception desk.___ _

____What was happening? This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This Michael had barely spoken with him for five minutes, and suddenly he was crushing like a schoolgirl. He knew he was still human, and had human needs and all that, but Christ! It was one thing to want a bit of a shah now and then, and completely another to turn into a blushing mess the moment a pretty boy laughed a bit. He wondered briefly if it might be something deeper, if the boy was possibly an avatar, or maybe his feelings were a side effect of the book? But no, Gertrude would never just let an avatar have free reign of the Institute, and Gerry hadn't even touched the book without gloves, let alone read it. Besides, he'd never heard of the Desolation being able to actually manipulate feelings, just feed off them._ _ _ _

____He was jolted out of his reverie when Michael cleared his throat gently, and he realized with a spike of surprise and embarrassment that he was still staring. He tried to bring the conversation back to why he'd come._ _ _ _

____"I need to see Gertrude. It's important."_ _ _ _

____"I mean..." Michael hesitated, then relented. "Okay sure, I'll uh- I'll give her a call. What did you say your name was?"_ _ _ _

____"Just say Gerry's got a book for her."_ _ _ _

____Michael eyed the thin volume in Gerry's hands with a certain apprehension, before dialing the phone behing him and picking up the reciever._ _ _ _

____"Um... hi Gertrude. It's Michael. There's a man here to see you."_ _ _ _

____A pause. Michael looked slightly exasperated._ _ _ _

____"Yes, I know. I told him that."_ _ _ _

____Another pause._ _ _ _

____"He says it's important."_ _ _ _

____Michael turned back to Gerry, looking him up and down_ _ _ _

____"Uh- black hair, leather jacket, eye tattoos. Said his name was Gerry."_ _ _ _

____A long pause. Michael looked more than a little confused._ _ _ _

____"No. Well- I don't know. He said he's got a book that he needs help with or something"_ _ _ _

____Pause._ _ _ _

____"Yeah, okay, I will. Sorry to bother you."_ _ _ _

____He hung up, and looked at Gerry, smiling apologetically. "Sorry about that, she's getting old. You know how they get."_ _ _ _

____Gerry almost laughed. "She's got you fooled too, huh?"_ _ _ _

____Michael gave him a puzzled look, but quickly shook it off. "Uh- I'll just show you down to her office then." He said, eyes flitting up to meet Gerry's before quickly flicking back down._ _ _ _

____Gerry knew where Gertrude's office was, of course. It wasn't hard to navigate, just a few flights of stairs and a long hallway, and he'd walked the path half a dozen times in the past month alone. Not to mention that Michael was supposed to be working as a receptionist, and that job didn't include walking anyone who showed up halfway across the building._ _ _ _

____Still, if Michael wanted to walk with him a bit, Gerry wasn't complaining._ _ _ _

____Michael shrugged off his down jacket, folding it neatly and draping it over his chair. Then he stood up and walked out from behind the receptionist's chair. Gerry's breath caught in his throat._ _ _ _

____He was tall, much taller than Gerry had thought. He must have been at least six and a half feet, most of it legs, and he moved with paradoxical clumsy grace. It reminded Gerry a bit of a video he'd once seen of a baby deer, eyes a bit too wide and limbs a bit too long. Regardless, Gerry found the effect absolutely _adorable _.___ _ _ _

______As he set off down the hall with Michael, Gerry resigned himself to his crush. That was all it was, a little crush. These things happened sometimes, no matter how hard he tried to avoid them. But it was fine. He'd managed to avoid Michael for this long, he'd have no reason to see him again after this. It was just a shame that-_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Is that book from the library of Jurgen Leitner?" Gerry's train of thought was interrupted as Michael pointed at the book._ _ _ _ _ _

______He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You know about the Leitners?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Well, I uh- it's not like I know much about them, but yeah. They pop up in statements every now and again and since it's not like there's a huge market for 'ancient paranormal books', I figured it was probably him." Michael explained._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Huh." stated Gerry, somewhere between suprised and impressed._ _ _ _ _ _

______"So is it?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Hm?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Is it from his library?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Oh, yeah. The label's mostly burnt off, but I know a Leitner when I see one."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Can I... See it?" Asked Michael tentatively, reaching over. As soon as his fingers brushed the cover, he jerked back with a yelp._ _ _ _ _ _

______"It's hot!" He said, looking at his reddened fingertips._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Is it?" Gerry checked the book, but it was still only faintly warm through his gloves. "Sorry, I just haven't got this one quite figured out yet, it might affect different people differently. Maybe just... don't touch it. Or whatever." He added lamely._ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael seemed fascinated. "What's it do?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gerry shrugged. He wasn't sure how much Michael knew, so he tried to keep it vague. "I'm not sure. Something with fire. The guy I bought it from won't be much help either. He's in prison."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"What'd he do?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Burnt down his office building, then his flat, then drove over to his parents house and burnt that too. Killed almost a dozen people by the time the cops got him."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Was it the book's fault then?" Asked Michael, seemingly unfazed by the grisly story._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Yeah, I reckon so. I suppose I haven't got any proof, but I don't need any. I just need to get rid of it."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Have you tried burning it?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gerry gave him a Look._ _ _ _ _ _

______A look of realization crossed Michael's face. "Oh yeah, I suppose that's probably not the best idea." He laughed again, that musical sighing sound that made Gerry's head spin a bit._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Nah, you're right actually. Usually I just burn them. Most books, Leitner's or not, aren't immune to fire. Plus, I just like to burn stuff." He allowed himself a small smile._ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael giggled a bit, then paused, looking pensive. "Wait a minute, you burn Leitner's books?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Yeah, what of it?" Asked Gerry, unsure where the conversation was headed._ _ _ _ _ _

______"And you said your name was Gerry? With a G?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Uh- sure," He responded, though he was fairly certain he had never mentioned anything about a G._ _ _ _ _ _

______"You're not... Gerard Keay, are you?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gerry halted dead in the hallway. Michael kept walking for a few steps, then noticed he had stopped and turned to face him._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I'll uh- I'll take that as a yes."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gerry didn't respond. His mind was whirring, trying to find out how Michael could possibly know who he was._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Didn't you... get accused of killing your mum, or something?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gerry nodded, trying to regain his composure. "Uh... Yeah. I didn't though."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael looked at him pensively for a moment, then nodded. "I believe you. You don't look like the murdering type."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gerry relaxed a bit, though he was still on edge. "How-" he cleared his throat, "how do you know who I am?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Oh!" Said Michael, as if the question hadn't even occurred to him. "You show up in a couple of statements. Only one that I've read, but I think there's at least half a dozen with someone matching your... Description."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gerry almost melted in relief. It was an archive of paranormal statements, of course he'd show up in some of them. Frankly it was surprising that he hadn't been recognized by any of the archival staff sooner, seeing how much he was involved with it. His dread was replaced with a spark of curiosity._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Which statement was it? The one I was in?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Uh... It was a young woman, I think. She found a book that uh... Made her... not recognize people? Like, she still remembered them, but when she looked at their faces, they looked like masks? She uh... Wanted to see what was underneath"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Oh yeah, I remember that one." She'd tried to peel his face off, and might have succeeded if he hadn't been able to set the book alight and get her to snap out of it. A question occurred to him as they set off down the hall again. It was a bit vain maybe, but he was curious._ _ _ _ _ _

______"How do they describe me?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Huh?" Michael looked at him_ _ _ _ _ _

______"The statement givers. What do they... Say about me?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Oh! They say you're..." Michael flapped his hands a bit, trying to remember. "Y'know. Tall, thin, tattoos, leather jacket, and you-" he cut himself off suddenly, blushing._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I what?" Asked Gerry, suddenly intrigued._ _ _ _ _ _

______"It's- it's nothing really."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"No, tell me," he said, smiling a bit._ _ _ _ _ _

______"It uh... It- it said," Stammered Michael. "I think the words she used were, uh, 'shitty long black hair that he'd clearly dyed himself'." He flushed an even deeper pink ._ _ _ _ _ _

______Gerry raised his eyebrows, hand flying to his hair. The statement giver wasn't exactly wrong, he did dye it himself. He didn't have the time or the wherewithal to regularly visit a salon, and it wasn't as if he had any friends to help him with it. He knew that it was always a bit greasy looking, no matter how much he washed it, and how in certain lights the colour looked uneven and blotchy, thanks to him using cheap box dye applied in the tiny bathroom mirror in his rented flat. He sighed._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Yeah, I guess they're right. I never really properly learned how to do it, just sort of looked at the instructions on the back of the box and improvised a bit."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"I uh-" Michael hesitated, "I took a few cosmetology courses in university. I can... Help you with it, if you want."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gerry tries to remain impassive, even as his heart leapt into his throat. The book pulsed with heat. "Uh, sure. That'd be cool."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael smiled again, and Gerry's heart fell back down from his throat, only to try and violently pound it's way out of his chest._ _ _ _ _ _

______The walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, until they came to a door with a small brass plaque reading "The Archivist". They paused, a sudden tension in the air. Gerry desperately wanted to keep talking with Michael, but he had no real reason to. Hell, he'd had no reason to be talking to him for this long in the first place._ _ _ _ _ _

______He knocked twice._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Come in, Gerard," came the familiar voice of Gertrude Robinson._ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta reading? Who's she?
> 
> In all serious though, please point out any typos or grammatical errors you notice in the comments and I will fix them. Thanks, and please enjoy the chapter!

Gerry opened the door and stepped in, to where Gertrude sat behind a desk littered with papers and empty mugs. Her greying hair was tied back in a severe bun, Behind her reading glasses, her eyes had that... unique look to them. A sort of satisfied sharpness that Gerry recognized as meaning she'd just read a statement. No wonder she hadn't wanted to see any public.

Gerry crossed the cramped office and Gertrude gestured for him to sit, not even looking up from her papers. He sat down, feeling more than a little uncomfortable in what was traditionally the "statement giver's" chair. 

Gerry shifted awkwardly in the seat for a few minutes, but Gertrude showed no signs of wanting to initiate any conversation, so he cleared his throat. 

"So... I found another Leitner."

"I would hope so Gerard, it's your job." She still didn't look up.

"Yeah. I need your help with it."

"Yes, you mentioned."

Gerry waited for her to continue, but she had returned to scribbling her notes.

"So will you help me with it?"

Gertrude finally looked up, and her cold blue eyes bored into him, studying him. "Michael, what are you doing down here?" She said slowly, eyes still fixed on Gerry. "I thought I told you to look after the front desk."

Michael, who had been lingering awkwardly in the doorway, started. "I uh- I was just erm- showing him to your office."

"He knows the way."

"Yes, well, uh-" he stammered

"Thank you Michael, will you leave us for a few minutes?" Interrupted Gertrude, not unkindly.

Michael opened his mouth to say something, but then paused, nodded, and left, closing the door behind him. The room was thoroughly soundproofed, so there was no need to wait for his footsteps to fade.

Gerry turned and glared at Gertrude. "You're lying to him." It was not a question.

"I lie to you all the time." She said plainly.

"Yes but..." He rubbed his forehead, "he's got no clue what's going on! He thinks you're some... some kind of helpless old woman!"

Gertrude leaned forward slightly, expression hardening. "What I do and do not tell my assistants is none of your business, Keay."

"He's just a kid!"

"He's older than you. He can handle himself."

He sighed. "Gertrude, you're going to get him killed."

She raised one eyebrow. "Maybe so. I can't see the future. But it's not your business. And I would thank you not to get too... Familiar with my assistants."

Gerry leaned back, resigned. "Just... Promise me you won't put him in danger unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I can promise no such thing." Said Gertrude.

"But-"

"But nothing. It's a dangerous job, and Michael is not your responsibility."

Gerry seethed with anger, but he could tell that there was no convincing her. Gertrude Robinson was nothing if not stubborn, and once her mind was made up there was little hope of changing it. So he just leaned back in his chair, book still clutched in his gloved hand. Gertrude, for her part, seemed to have already moved on. Her eyes fixed on the book in his hands.

"So, you said you're having trouble with it?"

"Yeah. Well- not exactly." Said Gerry, trying to get himself back to the matter at hand. " I haven't tried anything yet, but I'm fairly certain it's Desolation, and I'd rather not burn it until I know a bit more about it."

Gertrude nodded. "Quite. May I see it?"

Gerry shook off his reservations and lay the book down on the cluttered desk. Almost immediately, the notes and statements beneath it began to smoulder and smoke, despite no sign of damage to the book itself. Gertrude gasped in pain, as her patron protested the wanton destruction of knowledge, and stiffened in her chair. Gerry snatched it back up, though several pages had already been burned through.

Gertrude took a slightly shaky sip of tea and reached into her desk drawer, pulling out a pair of thick nylon gloves. Gerry knew better than to ask if she was okay.

"Don't think it likes this place much." He said instead.

"Few of the powers do, we have a habit of making enemies" remarked Gertrude, pulling on the gloves and flexing her fingers. "And the Desolation will jump at any chance to destroy, no matter the object."

She reached for the book with her newly gloved hands, and Gerry looked at them. He didn't want to let go of the book. Well, more like his hands seemed to despise the idea of letting go. Nevertheless, he handed the book to Gertrude, careful not to let it touch the table. The feeling faded to nothing when it was out of his hands.

The book turned out to be less mysterious than he'd thought. Apparently it was an abridged copy of the Hebrew Torah, dating back to at least the 1400s, perhaps earlier. Gertrude told him it had appeared in two previous statements, and had shown itself to have the very simple (but very effective) power of driving its owner to burn anything they could get their hands on, the more emotionally significant the better. As Gerry had suspected, attempts to burn it did not harm it, instead making its effects all the more powerful.

Gertrude's solution was equally simple. Put it in a sealed box, and stick it in his freezer. Being cut off from the steady supply of pain and destruction it fed off of would likely render it completely inert in less than a year.

"Can't I just... Ya know, toss it in the Thames or something?" Asked Gerry "That'd cut it off just fine, and I wouldn't have to spend a year with a Leitner tome in my fridge."

"You could try, but I suspect you wouldn't be able to. You're its owner now, it's tied to you until you either starve it to death or destroy everything you have. Since you've shown yourself rather useful, I'd rather you opt for the first option."

"You said it controls it's owner. I've had it for almost a month, and I haven't set my flat on fire. I haven't even burned any new Leitners since I picked it up." Gerry wondered.

"Yes... I was thinking about that. I suspect it has less effect on people like you."

"People like me?" Gerry asked skeptically.

"You have next to no friends, no living family, no home, few cherished possessions, and no love."

"Wow, thanks." said Gerry, sarcasm oozing from his tone. He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, and moved to light it when he caught Gertrude's glare.

"No smoking in the Archives Gerard." She said, voice brittle. Gerry tucked the cigarette and his lighter away.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to damage any of your precious statements." He muttered, with more annoyance than he felt.

"What I'm saying is, you have very little that it finds worth destroying" Continued Gertrude, ignoring his comment, "You should be careful though. I don't know for certain, but I expect that the book won't go quietly. It will do whatever it can to be used, to be in your hands. It'd not interested in you yet, but it will be desperate and take whatever you can get. I believe you're educated enough about these forces, you should be able to resist it, but... I'd recommend staying away from fire until the situation has passed. And... Pick a sturdy box."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Said Gerry, more apathetically than he felt. In fact, a spark of fear had kindled itself deep in his chest. He was used to it, in this line of work it was a necessity, so he ignored it.

"Is that all then?"

"Sure." He had a few more questions, but he could tell Gertrude was keen to have him gone, and none of them were horribly pressing. So he took the book back from her outstretched gloved hands and rose to his feet. The old text was still only gently warm in his hands, but now that only made him more wary. He tucked it in one of his larger coat pockets

"Well, take care Gerard." Said Gertrude, attention shifting back to her paperwork. "Oh, and I believe Michael is still waiting for you in the hallway. He wants to talk to you about something."

Gerry didn't ask how she knew that. He wasn't sure of the exact nature of all the Archivist's abilities, but he knew spontaneous flashes of Sight weren't uncommon.

"Should I talk to him?"

Gertrude shrugged. "I'm not your mother, you are free to do what you want. However, I'm sure you know better than anyone how dangerous this kind of... Attachment, can be. Especially for you, especially now."

He did know. He knew very well. But sometimes knowledge wasn't enough.

Gerry mumbled a quick "yeah, whatever", and Gertrude didn't respond. She had already resumed her reading, and showed no signs of giving him any proper dismissal, so he got to his feet and walked out of the cluttered office, leaving the Archivist to her devices.

Despite what Gertrude had said, the hallway outside her office seemed completely empty. Maybe Michael had given up and gone back upstairs, or maybe Gertrude had just been guessing, and her guess was wrong. Either way, Gerry didn't care. At least, he told himself he didn't care. And that definitely wasn't disappointment that he felt as he set off down the hall.

When he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, Gerry instinctively whirled around, hand flying to his folding knife. 

Switchblades were of course illegal, and proper knives were difficult to get a hand on, harder still to carry without difficult questions. Apparently London police didn't consider "monster hunting" to be a valid reason to carry a weapon. So Gerry carried his discreet pocket knife, matte black handle with small inlaid silver eyes.The blade was no longer than three inches, but Gerry ensured it was always wickedly sharp, and he had become adept at flicking it open with remarkable speed. He owed his life to the little thing several times over.

All of this combined to mean that, less than a second after he had felt the tap on his shoulder, Gerry found himself pinning a very frightened and very flustered Michael Shelley against a wall, the flat of the blade flush with the skin of his throat. Gerry's hand was bunched up in the absurdly soft fabric of Michael's jumper, and they were so close that their chests were almost pressed together. The lock of blond hair that curled over his hand tickled a bit.

They stood there frozen for half a second, or perhaps several hours, before Gerry's brain properly caught up with his instincts and he stepped back. Michael slumped against the wall, eyes wide and face pink.

"Sorry. Ah, Fuck, I'm so sorry. Didn't realize it was you. I uh... I don't like people sneaking up on me." Fumbled Gerry, unsure what to say in this kind of situation.

"No, it's um- it's fine." Said Michael. "I shouldn't have been standing over here anyways" he gestured to the corner he'd apparently been lurking behind. "I uh- I didn't want you to think I was- um- I was eavesdropping."

Gerry smiled a bit. Those walls were impermeable to all but the loudest sounds, he didn't have to worry about eavesdropping. More than anything, he found it endearing. "So, you were hiding?"

"No!" Said Michael loudly, then relented. "Well, uh, yeah. A bit." He gave Gerry a sheepish grin, but then hurried to clarify, "I _wasn't_ eavesdropping though. If you were- um, worried." He tailed off nervously.

"Hey, it's alright, I believe you." Said Gerry, and Michael relaxed visibly. "I was expecting you, actually. Gertrude thought you might have hung around, said you might have something to ask me." He was careful to frame the statement as though Gertrude had merely made an educated guess, and didn't have supernatural powers of observation.

"Oh um- did she?" Gerry nodded. "Well uh- actually- I, um, was gonna- um, I was gonna ask, I, um, uh-. I was- I was gonna, um-" Michael buried his face in his hands. "I uh- Sorry."

"Hey, it's cool, take your time. I just almost killed you, you're allowed to be nervous."

Michael looked up, smiling awkwardly. His face was flush with embarrassment. "Thanks. I was um- I was wondering if you'd maybe-" he rubbed his forehead. "Just uh- listen. Would you uh- would you like to maybe, uh, get a drink with me sometime?" 

Gerry froze. "Sorry?" He had heard just fine, but his brain didn't seem to want to process the words.

The colour drained from Michael's cheeks. "Oh- um- nevermind. Uh- of course not. It's uh... It's whatever" He backed away, face the picture of mortification. "I'll just um- I'll just go then."

"No wait- could you just... Say it again?"

"Oh um-" he blinked, "would you uh- maybe get a drink with me?"

Gerry stared at him. He wanted to accept. He desperately wanted to accept. The idea of going on a date, just a normal, boring human date, at some mediocre crowded pub, drinking overpriced beer and talking about non life-threatening topics had never really appealed to Gerry, but now it seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world. And not just a date with anyone, either. A date with this strange, fascinating man with the shining blue eyes and adorable stutter and the sighing, musical laugh. For fuck's sake, he had a _pink barrette_ in his hair, and he'd chosen Gerry? It was simply too good to be true.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? It _was_ too good to be true. He couldn't have any of it. He was one of few who could touch the dark powers and come away unscathed, but Michael wasn't. If he was claimed or killed, it would be Gerry's fault. Not to mention that forming attachments would only make his job more dangerous. For fuck's sake, he had a book in his pocket that literally fed off of the destruction of comfort. This couldn't possibly end well. Not for him, and not for Michael. He had to refuse. He was going to refuse.

"Sure, let's do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house we HC neurodivergent Michael Shelley and if you don't like that you can leave.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who left positive reviews and comments of the last chapter! This is shaping up to be a much bigger project than I initially imagined, and it's wonderful to know that people are enjoying what I've written so far.
> 
> As always, comments and critiques are more than welcome. Hit me up on Tumblr @a-swarm-of-crabs. Or don't. Idk I'm not your boss, do what you want

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter coming soon-ish, depending on how feisty my ADHD decides to be. Comments and criticism appreciated, as always.


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